


And the music plays bitter, plays sweet

by Andithiel



Series: Drarryland 2019 [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drarryland: A Drarry Game/Fest, Endgame Drarry, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Infidelity, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, not between drarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 07:50:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18824347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andithiel/pseuds/Andithiel
Summary: "He doesn’t know why he does this to her, why he can’t leave Draco Malfoy be. After the first time he promised himself it wouldn’t happen again. For a long time it didn’t. But Draco had become an itch he needed to scratch; the memory of him rutting against Harry all consuming, making him lose focus, making him want another taste. And another. And another. Until all he could taste was Draco, on his tongue, on his skin, all around him, ever present.Never leaving."





	And the music plays bitter, plays sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Drarryland/Game of Drarry Fest 2019.
> 
> Prompt: [Second hand lovers by Oren Lavie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xXlBdXh6Jwg)
> 
> I chose to write this as a sort of sequel to my February drabble [Inevitable](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17851976). It's 218 words and I'm really proud of it, but it's not necessary to read it to understand this fic.
> 
> Thank you so much to the always amazing [Kristinabird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristinabird/pseuds/Kristinabird) for the beta and for cheering me on, and to [ana_iliad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ana_iliad/pseuds/ana_iliad) for reassuring me.

The torches lining the abandoned corridor flicker, dancing almost in time with each snap of Draco’s hips. Harry’s head, thrown back, hits the wall again and again and he doesn’t care, doesn’t feel it, everything is Draco moving inside him panting against his neck, leaving biting kisses, his own orgasm building, building, erupting.

The distant sounds of mingling guests slowly filter back into his mind.

Panting, Draco slides out of him, vanishes the mess and tucks himself back in. 

”We can’t keep doing this.”

He doesn’t even meet Harry’s eyes as he says it. Harry’s chest is tight.

”I know.”

He turns and goes back to the party. Draco follows a few minutes after.

* * *

It has to stop. Someone will find out and he doesn’t want to think about the consequences. But he can’t. Doesn’t want to. This feverish need for another person is too exhilarating. It scares him. 

It’s like sixth year all over again. If he had a Marauder’s map of England he would probably stay up at nights, searching for the little dot with Draco’s name on it.

Ginny notices that something is off, but she doesn't push. She never does. A part of him wishes she would.

* * *

Each time they meet it’s elation and agony all at once.

Room number 11 at the Leaky Cauldron is filled with moans and soft whispers as clothes fall to the ground, hands caressing, lips sliding against each other.

Draco’s breath hot against his ear.

“Stay. Please stay.”

He never does.

* * *

”Astoria is sick.”

Harry stills, hands abandoning the task of re-buttoning his robes. Maybe he doesn’t mean—

”No, let me rephrase that: Astoria is dying.”

The strain in Draco’s voice is subtle, but Harry has learned every nuance over the past year. He hurries forward, getting on his knees in front of Draco in time to catch him. He’s shaking, tears wetting Harry’s shoulder. 

“It’ll be alright,” he says, because what else can he do?

“No. It won’t.”

Harry knows he’s right.

* * *

The day Astoria Malfoy née Greengrass is buried is a day for the closest family, and Harry isn’t there. As much as he wants to support Draco, officially they are not close. He asks Albus if he can escort him, silently hoping he’ll be able to catch a glimpse of Draco, but Albus refuses, and Harry is not in a position to try harder than that.

He’s jumpy the whole day, a restlessness in his body, ants under his skin.

“Just go to him,” Ginny says late in the evening as he sighs for the umpteenth time and closes his book. She regards him, her head slightly tilted, as he looks at her questionly. She rolls her eyes. ”Draco, of course! You’re itching to, aren’t you?”

There’s not a trace of accusation in her voice but Harry hesitates anyway.

“You know, I never thought you two would overcome your past differences. I’m so proud of you.”

Her hand atop his is warm and comforting.

“I love you,” he says as he takes her hand, and he means it. He’s just not sure it’s enough anymore.

“I know.” She smiles. “Now go.”

He tries not to sprint to the Floo, guilt heavy deep in his gut.

Draco is in the chair by the window when Harry steps out of the hearth, a glass of firewhiskey balancing on the arm rest.

“She knew,” he says without looking at Harry, “She knew about us and she didn’t tell me.”

Harry’s stomach is filled with ice.

“Did she—?”

“No, she didn’t tell anyone else. We’re purebloods, keeping up appearance is the core of our upbringing.”

Harry’s voice is raspy when he asks “How?”

Draco sighs, takes a sip of firewhiskey, the smoke exiting his mouth swirling up towards the ceiling, “She saw us. On the balcony at that charity ball last year.”

“But…” Harry has to think. He remembers the starlit sky, the soft hum of voices, the piano playing in the background, as if it was playing just for them, just for Draco and Harry. Draco’s flushed cheeks and clear eyes as Harry smoothed a wrinkle in his robes. “But we didn’t do anything.”

Draco looks at him over his shoulder, a disbelieving look on his face.

“She saw enough to put two and two together.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say. What are you supposed to say to your recently widowed lover who has just buried his wife?

”Do you want me to—?”

Draco stands up so abruptly that the glass falls to the floor and shatters, firewhiskey splashing everywhere, staining the expensive carpet; he crowds Harry against the mantelpiece.

”If you leave now, don’t bother coming back,” he growls.

Harry whimpers and then Draco’s lips are on his, insisting, demanding and Harry melts. Until he remembers.

”Fuck, Albus is here, we can’t— ,”

”They’re sleeping, but if you’re worried…” Draco says and Apparates them to his bedroom.

”Is this—?”

”Don’t make this weirder than it has to be,” Draco snaps before he starts working on the buttons of Harry’s robes, making him dizzy with want.

”I’ve thought about you all day,” Harry says, fumbling with Draco’s tie. “It kills me that I couldn’t be there for you.”

Draco rips Harry’s robes off in one swift impatient movement.

“Shut up and fuck me.” 

His voice is desperate, shaky and steely at the same time; It sounds more like a plea than a command, but Harry doesn’t even consider not obeying.

Afterwards they lie entwined on top of the covers, Draco’s body heavy against Harry’s.

“Stay. Please stay.”

Harry doesn’t think twice before he conjures his Patronus, sending it off to Ginny with a message not to wait up for him.

* * *

This has gone on too long, Harry thinks, looking into the darkness of the bedroom. Ginny’s breaths are steady and calm. Trusting. Safe.

Faithful. 

He doesn’t know why he does this to her, why he can’t leave Draco Malfoy be. After the first time he promised himself it wouldn’t happen again. For a long time it didn’t. But Draco had become an itch he needed to scratch; the memory of him rutting against Harry all consuming, making him lose focus, making him want another taste. And another. And another. Until all he could taste was Draco, on his tongue, on his skin, all around him, ever present.

Never leaving.

* * *

”You have to choose. Her or me.”

Draco’s voice is flat, almost nonchalant, but his eyes are hard, flinty like the ocean waves on a cloudy day. Anger rises in Harry, all the pent up frustration welling up inside him. He’s surprised to find his voice calm when he speaks.

“She’s the only family I’ve ever known, I can’t just throw her away.” 

Draco averts his gaze, his jaw working silently.

“Well, you can’t expect me to wait forever.”

Harry’s final thread of patience snaps.

“You didn’t even have to choose, your wife died!”

Harry knows he should regret the words as soon as they’re out, knows he stepped over the line, but he’s too furious to care. 

“Get out.” Draco’s voice is composed but the trembling of his hands betray him. “Get out, and don’t ever come back.”

“Gladly,” Harry bites out before Disapparating.

* * *

He’s not sure when they started to drift apart. Was it when she was away for weeks at a time with the team? Was it when he started climbing the ranks, becoming Head Auror and staying late at work? All he knows is that she used to be vibrant, alive, alight. He remembers when he couldn’t take his eyes off her, he would wake up at night and just watch her, but now the flame has dulled.

_She’s the only one who ever chose me_ he thinks to himself, watching her cleaning up after dinner, the monotonous work a soothing presence.

He doesn’t know what his feelings are anymore. Love? Comfort? Enjoying the familiarity of their domestic life, something he never thought he would have when he grew up?

She’s given him everything. everything he ever dreamed of. But she deserves better than this. Better than him.

It’s not fair, to either of them, that he’s holding onto her because of gratitude.

* * *

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

Draco slams the door to Harry’s office so forcefully his diplomas on the wall shudder. “Is this some kind of revenge? Are you getting back at me by punishing my son?”

His face is flushed, eyes bulging. Harry has never seen him this livid.

“Do you really think I would be that petty? I’m doing this for Albus’ sake.”

Draco snorts. “You think the rumours are true, about Scorpius’ parentage.”

He straightens up, his hands clenched tightly into fists. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if he threw a punch.

“I don’t know what to believe, I’m just trying to protect my family.”

The room falls eerily quiet.

“Fuck you, Harry Potter,” Draco snarls. “Fuck you and your nobility, and your comfortable life, and your _fucking_ high horse!”

He turns and leaves, slamming the door yet again, leaving a screaming silence in his wake.

* * *

“Try to enjoy yourself, love,” Ginny says, handing him a freshly filled champagne flute. He takes it and sips, letting the bubbles roll around his mouth before swallowing, feeling the warmth spread in his stomach.

He really hates these functions, hates them with every fiber of his being. For a while it was different, when he and Draco— But he can’t think of that now. Draco hates the sight of him.

As if conjured by Harry’s mind, Draco appears out of nowhere at the other side of the room, standing a little too close to the new Head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, whispering something in his ear. The other man smiles and looks at Draco as if he can’t believe he’s real. Harry knows that look, knows that he’s made that look himself when watching Draco.

Draco whispers something again to his companion, locking eyes with Harry, letting him know _exactly_ what’s being said. 

Harry’s vision blurs, he can’t see anything but the light bouncing off of Draco’s hair, the sound of static filling his ears. Beside him Ginny says something but he doesn’t know what, doesn’t care because Draco is leaving with the other man, throwing Harry a defiant look and Harry is lost in a sea of high pitched buzzing.

He doesn’t notice his magic running wild, only vaguely feeling the shards of shattered glass piercing the palm of his hand. Ginny places her hand on his arm, speaking softly to him, shaking him out of his trance. When he looks up, the ball room is quiet, every eye is on him, including the stormy grey he always seeks out. Draco looks thunderstruck, his arms hanging limply by his sides. Harry turns and leaves for the bathroom. He’s so fed up with it, everyone always wanting something from him.

The water is cool against his hands, soothing and cleansing. He rests his forehead against the smooth surface of the mirror, trying to even out his breathing, grounding himself.

There’s a knock on the door. 

“Harry?” Ginny’s voice is soft, concerned. “Harry, can I come in?”

He fumbles with the door handle, fingers numb and unwilling, but manages to get the door up. Ginny takes one look at him and folds her arms.

“You need to go home.”

He nods, swallows.

“You can stay if you want,” he tells her, “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” 

He nods again. He needs to be alone, needs her to have a good time. She always did enjoy these parties more than him.

She regards him for a moment. “I’ll come up with a cover story,” she says, “go home and rest, love.”

He gives her a kiss on the cheek before walking towards the Floo.

He’s not been home more than five minutes before there’s a knock on the front door. Wrenching it open, he’s both relieved and scared when he finds Draco outside. He looks tired, defeated.

Harry looks around quickly to see that there’s no one around before he motions for Draco to come inside.

Draco closes the door, still not speaking. Harry holds his breath, waiting for the sky to fall down on him.

“Fuck you, Harry Potter,” Draco says quietly, finally looking at Harry, stepping closer. “Fuck you and your messy hair, and your brilliant smile, and your fucking intoxicating smell.”

He’s so close, so close and Harry’s walls are crumbling. He knows he should throw Draco out, but all he can think of is how much he’s missed him.

“Tell me to leave,” Draco whispers. “Tell me to leave and I will, and we’ll stop this once and for all.”

Harry closes his eyes trying to find a shard of self control.

Then he looks at Draco and he knows he can never let go.

“Tell me.”

With a growl Harry closes the distance and crashes their lips together. He runs his fingers through Draco’s soft hair, pressing up against him, letting Draco swallow his moans as he ruts against him, desperately.

Harry knows this is beyond reckless, Ginny could come home any time. The thought of getting caught isn’t even exhilarating, but he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

“Mine,” he grunts as he rubs Draco’s cock through his trousers, “all _mine_.”

Draco nods frantically, pushing into Harry’s hand. “Yes,” he breathes, “only yours. Only yours, Harry.”

It takes an embarrassingly short time before Harry comes, still in his trousers like a randy teenager, but Draco isn’t far behind. Harry pants into the crook of Draco’s neck, inhaling the scent of him, committing it to memory. He never knows if it will be the last time.

“Fuck Harry, I wish I knew how to stop this.”

Harry merely nods, too lost for words. 

_I know._

* * *

Ginny is surprisingly unsurprised the day Harry breaks up the only family he’s ever known. She gives him a shaky smile through the tears.

“I’ve always known it would come to this, Harry,” she says. “I’ve always known you weren’t mine to keep, we weren't right. You’re too good for me.”

His heart breaks into a million pieces and he puts his arms around her, crying into her hair.

“Fuck, Ginny. Don’t you know it’s the other way around?”

She laughs, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

“And Draco? Does he feel the same way about you?”

“I don’t know,” Harry answers truthfully, because he doesn’t, he hasn’t spoken to Draco for months, not since what happened after the Ministry gala, neither of them courageous enough to make the first move.

”How long?” she asks, “How long have you felt this way?”

He sighs, thinking it over, wanting to be as honest as possible without letting her know what he’s done.

”Since forever I think.”

* * *

The rumours about their divorce are endless. Most of them blame Ginny, saying she was away too often, that she was too boisterous for him, too lively, too _much_. Harry is seething, but Ginny stops him from hexing every reporter that happens to cross his path.

“It’s not worth it, Harry,” she says exasperatedly as he aims a Stinging Hex at a particularly nosy reporter. “They’ll tire of it eventually.”

But the least Harry can do for her is putting the strongest wards the Ministry has to offer around the house and garden to keep the worst of the harassment at bay .

One day there’s a knock on his door.He opens it to find Draco on his doorstep. Draco looks embarrassed, as if he’d rather be somewhere else.

“I heard…,” he says to his feet. “Scorpius told me. Is it true? About…?”

Harry folds his arms.

“And what about it?”

“I was wondering if…”

Harry doesn’t answer, waiting for Draco to spell it out for him.

“You know what, forget about it,” Draco says, turning to leave.

“I didn’t do it for you, I did it for her,” Harry blurts.

Draco freezes, turning back slowly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not expecting anything from you. But— .” He stops, not sure how to proceed, but decides to go all in. “I want you, Draco. I’ve always wanted you.”

There’s a long silence in which Harry’s words seem to float between them, before Draco’s face lights up in the most brilliant smile Harry’s ever seen.

* * *

Harry wakes up in the middle of the night, feeling the warm presence of Draco lying next to him. He props himself up on one arm, watching. Draco looks so peaceful, all sharp edges softened with age and sleep. It’s strange, really: the boy he once couldn’t stand became the man he couldn’t stand to be without.

Their first night together as husbands. It’s an overwhelming thought.

He thinks back on the day, how everyone seemed so happy for them, Ginny mentioning how well they fit together. “It’s like watching a delicate dance, seeing you two moving with each other,” she told him. 

He’s grateful for her, but the guilt of what he did to her will follow him his whole life. He hasn’t told her, knowing it would only be for his own sake, to relieve his remorse. He doesn’t want to do that to her.

Draco stirs, flinging an arm out.

“Stop staring, you great sap.”

Harry snorts, snuggling in close to him, tangling their legs together.

“I’m allowed to be sappy you cynical bastard,” he says with a kiss to Draco’s jaw, “besides, I saw you wiping a tear when Hermione made her speech.”

“Lies and slander,” Draco says, yawning, “but if you ever tell anyone, no one will be able to find your body.”

Harry draws Draco in for a proper kiss.

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are lovely <3
> 
> I'm also [on tumblr](https://andithiel.tumblr.com//)! Come say hi!


End file.
